The Little Girl In 221B
by shipityouwill
Summary: What will happen when Sherlock's niece comes to stay for two weeks? The the little copy of Sherlock be too much for John Watson to handle? Read as the trio tries to solve a murder mystery. This is my first SHERLOCK fic. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1, The Little Girl In 221B

It was an ordinary day in the flat 221 on Baker Street, since the boys had no case. John sat in the living room watching crap telly and drinking tea, and Sherlock was experimenting in the kitchen on how dead flesh reacted to different types of botox.

A four beat knocking pattern erupted from the door. Sherlock looked at John through his safety goggles and they traded a confused look. The knocking didn't cease.

"I guess I'll get that," John mumbled. He lifted himself out of the chair he was sitting in, and walked quickly to the door. He looked through the peep hole. A young girl, possibly eleven or twelve, stood there. She had black hair tied back in a neat bun, stunning green eyes, and wore a tight shirt. She carried two dark purple bags. John furrowed his eyebrows. He opened the door.

"Can I help you?" John asked. The girl cocked her head to the side.

"This is Sherlock's address if I'm not mistaken," the girl said in a deep, but childish voice.

John stepped back.

"You know Sherlock?" John questioned, and the girl shot him a look that made him feel stupid.

"Did he not tell you I was coming? Never mind, will you call for him? I'll wait here," the girl confirmed. She stood straight as a pencil, and her hand stood flat at her sides. John mumbled a quick yes, shut the door and hurried in.

John rushed down the hall and entered the kitchen, where Sherlock had resumed his work.

"Sherlock?" John questioned. Sherlock responded with a quiet murmur that almost sounded like go away.

"There's a child at the door. She wants you. I didn't even know that you knew children," John said in a surprised voice. Sherlock stopped.

"Black hair, short?" Sherlock asked. John nodded his head.

"Well, she's early," Sherlock said sophisticated. Before John could ask what in the world Sherlock was talking about, he had already sprung down the hallway. Sherlock eyed the peep hole and smiled. He reopened the door.

"Ruth," Sherlock smiled. The girl's expressionless face turned quickly into a grin.

"Sherlock. Lovely to see you, as always. I'm sorry if I've been in inconvenience, Father always says to be early, but you already know that."

The girl sounded much too old for her age, and John couldn't help but glare at the small girl as he stood behind Sherlock.

"Lovely to see you as well. Come in. I've been working on a experiment I think you may find interesting," Sherlock said. John was surprised to find Sherlock acting with kindness and pleasure in his voice. He watched as the girl followed Sherlock into the flat. She walked with her back straight, never arched, and had her eyes trained on Sherlock. They entered the kitchen, and John watched from afar.

" I've been trying to see if botox will effect dead flesh. It has hardened the outside layer, but has failed to stimulate the inside. I've cut out a piece if you would like to exam," Sherlock handed the girl a pair of gloves from the box he kept on the table, and she, Ruth, picked up a piece of flesh that layed down on the dining room table. She examined it with curiosity.

"Have you tried softening the flesh in water? That will make the skin easier to work with. I tried that on an experiment with a deer once," Ruth said. Sherlock widened his grin.

"That's what I've been missing John. The skin must be softer!" Sherlock exclaimed. He grabbed a bowl out of the cupboard and started to fill it with water under the tap. Ruth turned to face John and at once thoroughly examined him.

"Iraq or Afghanistan?" Ruth asked after a while. John stared at her.

"Um, it was, Afghanistan, I guess. Sherlock, can I speak with you?" John asked, slightly dazed. Sherlock nodded.

"Excuse me Ruth. I will return shortly," Sherlock mumbled. He followed John into the hallway. John sighed.

"Who is she?" John asked.

"Who is who?"

"That little girl. What's she doing here, who is she?"

"That is Mycroft's daughter, Ruth. She has come to stay with me for two weeks. She is quite like me, and always pulls through in experiments."

John looked at Sherlock with bewilderment for a moment, and then peeked his head around to look at the girl who was now soaking human flesh in the bowl John had eaten popcorn out of yesterday. He turned back to Sherlock.

"How old is she?" John asked. He thought she was probably too young to deal with human flesh, but he didn't say that. Sherlock would only argue with him.

"She turned twelve two month's ago ," Sherlock confirmed. John sighed.

"Where is she going to stay?" John asked. A befuddled look crossed Sherlock for a moment.

"Well," Sherlock started,"She used to stay in the extra room down the hall, but seeing as though it is occupied by you now, she will most likely stay in my room and I will will stay on the couch."

Sherlock walked back into the kitchen to start a conversation with his niece about things John could barely understand. John watched the two of them from the hallway, like a hunter stalking his prey. Sherlock and Ruth seemed to be two halves of the same whole, and John couldn't help but feel slightly jealous of the connection they had. He also was jealous of the way she talked, analyzing everything as Sherlock did, not missing a single detail. The first thing she had noticed about John was that he served in the military, and that made John slightly, what, angry, no. More like confused you could say.

Sherlock said something to Ruth about getting acids from his room to try out, and he stalked toward his domain. John felt the room grow more and more awkward as time passed.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you didn't fight did you? Most likely you were a doctor," Ruth suddenly said, surprising John.

"Yes, I was a doctor, still am. How'd you know?" John asked.

You're leg. Plus you've examining things very cautiously, looking to make sure if they're clean and safe, but you look like you could hold your own in a fight. And the mark in your sweater," Ruth replied.

"What mark on my sweater?" John questioned.

"On your left breast there is a stretch mark and a small hole made by a name tag. I was assuming that you were a doctor, because doctor's wear name tags."

"You're just like Sherlock, you know," John commented.

"So I've been told. That is most likely why I enjoy his company," Ruth paused," I don't think that I have thoroughly introduced myself. I'm Ruth Holmes, Sherlock's niece."

Ruth stuck out her small hand, and John shook it.

"John Watson. I share the flat with your uncle and solve crimes with him," John responded. Ruth's eyes widened.

"Your John Watson! Sherlock has told me so much about you. You're very noble. He worries about you often, don't tell him I told you that, he might shun me for the rest of my days."

John laughed at first at the last part. He liked this side of Ruth, the more childish side, yet still adult like. He wondered if under all the layers of Sherlock there was somewhat a normal person. John sure hoped so.

"Ruth, I've found the acid!Four kinds!" Sherlock shouted from his bedroom, causing John and Ruth alike to jump.

Sherlock came quickly carrying bottles down the hallway, and dropped one. The floor started to sizzle. John suppressed a frown and Ruth suppressed a giggle and returned to her adult like form. Her face again became stern. Again Sherlock and the little girl returned to their work, and all John Watson could do was stare.

End of chapter one. Hoped you enjoyed it! I'm hoping to add a few more chapters to the story, but no promises. The last time I tried to upload more chapters my computer totally bugged out on me. Anyway, I'm hoping to add Johnlock fluff and a murder mystery that Ruth helps solve. Thanks for reading!

**-Grace the magical unicorn!**


	2. Chapter 2, The Goggled Girl on the Scene

CHAPTER 2

It was nighttime on Ruth's first night in the flat 221B. John had subjected himself to the solitude of his room, and Ruth and Sherlock sat comfortably in the living room watching some American show that Sherlock thought was called Maury. He watched as two men fought over who was the father of a six month old, even though it was clear it was neither .

"It is another man, clearly! How could they be so stupid. Look at crinkles on her pants, clearly made by another lover!" Ruth exclaimed. Sherlock only nodded. A comfortable silence took over the two for awhile.

"Sherlock?" Ruth asked. Sherlock looked down at her.

"Yes Ruth?" Sherlock responded.

"John Watson, how long has he been living here?" Ruth questioned. That took Sherlock by surprise.

"About a year and a half. Why do you ask?" Sherlock looked down at Ruth, trying to figure out why she would be asking such a question.

"Well,"Ruth started,"He has little valuables here, but you probably can't see most of them under the clutter, yet he has made a big impact on your life. Is he your partner?" Ruth looked at Sherlock.

"He is not my life partner, if that is what you are referring to. He is just a friend. John helps me solve crimes, that is all."

"Fascinating."

Sherlock watched Ruth as she further plunged herself into her question, just like Sherlock would. She was most likely reviewing Sherlock's answers to see if there was any hidden meaning. Sherlock wasn't sure if there was any hidden meaning at all, so how would Ruth find it?

"Sherlock, I am going to retire to your bedroom. I will see you again at eight o'clock tomorrow morning,"Ruth stated, and without so much as a goodbye she walked down the hallway and into Sherlock's bedroom.

Sherlock sat on the couch, not bothering to try and sleep. Sleep was boring and unnecessary. He got up to go into the kitchen and experimented with the acids.

It was three o'clock in the morning when John was awoken by an explosion. His first reaction was to go to Sherlock's room to see if he was alright. John sprinted across the hallway and struck open the door. He forgot that Ruth was in there.

Ruth lay in a mess of blankets and sheets. Her hair was shoulder length and curly, and John couldn't help but smile at the similarity between her and Sherlock.

"Why are you staring at my niece John?" John swung around to Sherlock, who was staring uncomfortably close to him.

"I wasn't staring at her. I forgot that you weren't in here and when I heard an explosion I came to see if you were alright," John stated. Sherlock struck up an amused look.

"Fascinating," Sherlock mumbled, and headed back into the kitchen, where the wrong type of acid had mixed with compressed gunpowder. John sighed.

He looked back into Sherlock's room and watched Ruth for a moment more. She seemed very vulnerable in her sleep, very childish. John walked in to pull the blanket up to her shoulder.

He put his hand on Ruth's shoulder when her eyes shot open. She swung back her arm and punched John in his nose. Then she sat up and hit John in the throat as he held his nose. John fell to floor in a quick motion.

"Oh, it's only you. Sorry John," Ruth climbed out of bed, and kneeled by John, who was now coughing. Sherlock popped his head in the doorway and looked at Ruth.

"What's happened?"Sherlock asked. He walked over to John, who was now catching his breath.

"I thought he was someone else, so I hit his in the nose and in the throat. Sorry again John."

"It's- all- right," John breathed. He should have known better than to mess with a Holmes in their sleep. Though the girl was young, she had a strong punch.

"Who did you think he was?" Sherlock questioned. He helped John to his feet.

"Robber, kidnapper, murderer, stalker. You're the one who taught me to be ready at all times," Ruth directed to Sherlock. Sherlock was taken aback.

"I taught you to be ready for evil people, not short ex-army doctor," Sherlock fired back. John stood there awkwardly.

"We may discuss this in the morning, Sherlock. I'm going back to sleep," Ruth climbed back into Sherlock's bed. Sherlock made a signal for John to leave. The two men walked back out of the room and closed the door.

"You were the one that taught her to hit people in the throat?" John exclaimed. Sherlock looked confused.

"I was the one that taught her self defence, yes. I didn't mean for her to hit you in the throat," Sherlock defended. John just said goodnight and walked back into his room. He was going to learn one of these days not to mess with a Holmes affairs of the night.

It was exactly eight o'clock when Ruth came out of her room. She wore a tight shirt, like the day before, and had on skinny jeans. Her hair was pulled back in a tight braid.

John sat on the couch, looking on the internet for a case, and Sherlock was in the kitchen, like the day before working on his softened dead skin. Ruth grabbed a pair of gloves and safety goggles from the counter and started to help Sherlock in the kitchen. A knocking sound came from the door.

"May I?" Ruth asked. Sherlock nodded and Ruth started walking down to the door. She looked through the peephole to see a rather tall man with grey hair. The door swung open. Ruth stared at the man. He stared back, his mouth hanging open.

"Sherlock?" Lestrade shouted down the hallway,"Why are you keeping a little girl hostage? Does John know?"

"I am not being held hostage. Sherlock Holmes is my uncle. I'm assuming you're either an officer, incredibly stupid, or both. My name is Ruth Holmes, nice to meet to you."

John had been listening in on the conversation, and decided that Ruth had about the same amount of people skills as Sherlock. All the Holmes seemed to be a little off when it came to people. John popped off the couch and walked to the door.

"Lestrade," John said. Lestrade looked away from the safety goggle wearing girl and looked at John.

"There has been a murder,"Lestrade said sternly," down at a children's park. We need you guys down there.'

"I'll get Sherlock," John walked back and informed Sherlock on the case. A grin spread across Sherlock's face.

"Lovely!" Sherlock exclaimed,"Ruth, get your coat!"

"Sherlock, is it really a good idea to bring a twelve year old to a crime scene?" John asked. Sherlock actually laughed.

"I brought her to her first one when she was eight. She did fine. It was a murder suicide. She'll do fine," Sherlock explained. John just shook his head.

Ruth came back and set her goggles on the table. She entered Sherlock's room and came out with an expensive looking coat.

"Shouldn't she be at school?" Lestrade asked. Ruth laughed.

"I've finished high school, and a year quicker than Sherlock. I plan on being a detective, so I am at school sir," Ruth blurted out. Lestrade just shook his head.

The cab to the crime scene was fun for the Holmes, but incredibly weird for Lestrade and Watson. Ruth and Sherlock went back and forth naming the different types of chemicals in a fag, and since there were over four thousand they never ceased.

The cab arrived at McCormick's Children's Playground at nine thirty in the morning. Police tape had already been hung. Lestrade led them to it.

"Wait, now you kidnap children, freak?" A familiar voice said.

"Donovan, I didn't kidnap a child. This is my niece, Ruth," Sherlock spat out.

"My uncle is not a freak, he is an antisocial genius. I really suggest you stop using that cream on your face, it'll cause irritation," Ruth jabbed back at the sargent.

"Oh great, another one. She's too young to be at the crime scene," Sally Donovan said.

"Well I would vouch to disagree."

Ruth walked under the police tape and stepped up to the dead body. Sherlock followed. John stood by Sally.

"Who let the freak be in charge of mini freak over there?"Sally asked.

"His brother," John answered and walked over to where Ruth and Sherlock were inspecting a dead man.

**This chapter is slightly shorter than the last one. I hope to keep adding to the story, but I didn't have a lot of time on this one. Please leave reviews and things you would like to see in the story. I seriously love this fic. Thanks for reading!**

**-Grace the magical unicron**


	3. Chapter 3, The Grocery Store Deduction

CHAPTER 3

Ruth stood over the dead body, inspecting it. Sherlock did the same. It was a male in his late twenties. He wore a skin tight red shirt, black skinny jeans. His hair was slicked up, obviously with a sort of gel, and he had an earing in.

"John," Sherlock and his niece said at the same time. John just started talking, since he knew what they wanted.

"Male, late twenties. No sign of health issues. Stab wound to the heart, and cuts to the wrist, most likely self inflicted. How did I do?" John asked.

Sherlock just sighed. He looked over to Ruth, who was shaking her head slowly.

"Male, late twenties, yes. The stab wound was right under the heart, but he bled out all the same. I would say he was on his way back from a bar,took a shortcut. Most likely a gay bar, look at the hair and hands," Ruth looked at Sherlock for approval.

"How'd you get all that?" John questioned. Sherlock again sighed.

"Simple. Smell his mouth. It smells of alcohol. His hair is dyed and his hands are moisturised. It is now obvious that he was at a gay bar. Under the alcohol you can smell cheap cologne," Ruth stated.

"Why?" John asked.

"No idea. Ruth, John, we have things to research. Let's go," Sherlock started walking back to police tape. Sally Donovan shot the two "freaks" a glare as they ducked under the tape. John followed. Sherlock called a cab.

"So what exactly will we be researching?"John asked Sherlock.

"Gay bars, obviously. Sherlock wants to check where he could've been gone, and his route home," Ruth unexpectedly responded. John nodded. The cab pulled up to curb where the three were standing.

On the ride home it was just the three of them, and Sherlock and Ruth played their game and John sat there awkwardly. John could see the cabby going from amazed to annoyed. John wasn't surprised when he was quick to get them on their way.

They entered 221B Baker Street and Sherlock grabbed John's laptop.

"Did you change your password?"Sherlock asked. John nodded.

"Why?" Sherlock questioned.

"So you would stop using it," John proclaimed. He saw Sherlock look at the hint for a moment.

"Hint:Childhood dog. Oh, it's Felix!" Sherlock typed in the password and smiled.

"How the bloody hell did you remember that?" John pondered.

"You told me," Sherlock explained.

"I didn't think that you were listening to me rambling."

"I was."

"Looks like I'll need a new password."

"Stupid. I'll just figure it out anyway."

"Then I'll change it again."

Ruth watched the full grown men swabble and grabbed the laptop. She opened up Google and looked for gay bars in London.

"Sherlock," Ruth exclaimed," I've found a bar about half a mile from the park the man was killed at! Sherlock are you listening to me!"

"Yes of course. I'll investigate it later. Right now I'm going to try find some files I have in my room," Sherlock said flatly. He stormed off.

"I remember," Ruth told John," when I was seven and he had a tantrum about the temperature of the fridge."

John laughed. That seemed just like Sherlock to get upset by little things. John could hear the sound of Sherlock playing a suicide song, Gloomy Sunday, on his violin.

"I'm going to go out to get groceries. Will you be okay here on your own?" John asked.

"Can I go with you John?" This took John by surprise. Ruth was definitely more outgoing than Sherlock.

"Yes, of course. Grab your coat," said John. He pulled back on own coat.

"Mind if we walk? It's only a few blocks down," John looked up from his jacket zipper and saw Ruth in her coat.

"Not at all," Ruth answered.

The walk down to the store was pleasant, though they only made small talk. John talked about work in his clinic, and Ruth talked about her high school graduation.

When they got there John pulled out a list Sherlock had made.

Sherlock's List

Bars

Head

Bathroom Rug (burned the last one)

John shook his head. Looked like he'd be taking a trip to the morgue today too. Ruth silently read the list John held and smiled.

"So he actually took my advice to test the acid on fingers. Smart!" Ruth smiled. John smiled back at her. They walked toward the back of the store.

"I've only ever seen Sherlock eat twice,"John started,"and when I did it was half an apple and dinner roll. He says that eating is stupid and a waste of time."

"Oh it is, but we have to. I'm a vegetarian, since I have a better eating habit than my uncle I might as well eat the way I choose," Ruth stated.

"Huh," John mumbled. Ruth and John stumbled through the store, grabbing anything that looked useful.

"See him over there? Yeah him. He's here with his wife. They both been cheating on each other. They've been married unhappily for five or more years. Oh, look at her. Her cats died, poor lady. And that kid just put marshmallows in the cart that he wasn't supposed to. His mother is waiting it out to see if he'll do the right thing and put it back."

John stood behind Ruth in the candy aisle at the store. She had been examining people for the last half an hour they had been there.

"I should get out more often, this is really fun. Thank you John!" Ruth beamed at John. He couldn't help but smile back. It was hilarious how much the twelve year old enjoyed the store. John was just about to talk to Ruth about her deductions when his phone started ringing.

"Hello, this is John."

"Where the hell is my niece John?"

"Um, she's with me at the store making deductions about people Sherlock."

"Get home, quick! I have an idea!'

"Okay. We'll be there in about half an hour."

"Quick!"

"Okay Sherlock!"

John hung up the phone and slid it back into his pocket. He looked at Ruth, who had taken the hint and was already walking toward the check out.

"Wait up Ruth!" John called. He ran after the little girl.

Sherlock was at the flat laying on the floor when John and Ruth came home. The front door clicked open.

"What's it that you thought of Sherlock?" Ruth asked. Sherlock lifted his head to see Ruth standing oddly close to John. He'd investigate that later.

"I checked to see when the showing of Stanley Brooks would be. I need you two to go as father and daughter to try and get information on him. See if he had any enemies. I'm going to investigate the bar he was at the night he left and follow his trail."

"That's all you wanted?" John said annoyed. He carried all the bags into the kitchen, and pushed over a frozen head to set them down. Ruth did the same.

"Sherlock,"Ruth stated," I'm going to go to your room. I'll help you put away the groceries in a minute John."

Sherlock waited until Ruth was a safe distance away until he spoke.

"Have you bonded with my niece John?" Sherlock asked out of pure curiosity. John head popped out of the fridge he was putting groceries away in.

"What? Um, no, not really. Why?" John looked confused. He walked over and sat cross legged by Sherlock on the ground.

"Here's the part where you tell me what caused you to deduce that Sherlock," John said sarcastically, though Sherlock clearly saw that John was curious.

"If you insist. You were standing awfully close to Ruth, as if to protect her, although there was nothing to protect her from. That means that you were being overly protective, like a parent, even though you've only just met her. That clearly states that you bonded, feeling the need to protect her from danger that wasn't even there."

John sighed. Why couldn't Sherlock just be normal?

"So I've taken a liking to your niece. She's like you, but not nearly as annoying. I enjoy her company, and I am not being overly protective," John pointed. Sherlock sat up.

"The showing is on Thursday, that gives you two day. Make up a story that includes Ruth," Sherlock commanded.

"Yes, yes, I know. And you go to you're gay bar and do your Sherlock-stuff," John fired back.

He walked back to his room, forgetting the groceries. He stopped to not on Sherlock's(Ruth's) door.

"Come in,"Ruth called, though John hadn't knocked.

"Just wanted to say,"John started,"if you think of a story for the showing, tell me."

"I've already got one John. You worked with the victim, wherever he does work, and I'm your daughter. You're single, and I'm an only child. You're Simon Isles, and I'm Melody Isles. If anyone asks, which most likely they wont, my mother died giving birth. Oh, and my middle name is Beth."

John stared at Ruth for a moment, and thanked her. He walked back to his room, and got ready for bed. It was only eight p.m., but John was very tired. He drifted off to sleep, thinking about what it would be like to actually have Ruth as a daughter.

Thanks for reading! This was more of a filler chapter, and it took awhile to write. I might not update for a while, since it's a Sunday and I got in three chapters, plus I've got to go to school tomorrow. Blugh. Please review, because I feed on reviews!

-Grace the magical unicorn


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

It was the second time that John woke up to a crashing noise, and this time he went to investigate in the kitchen. Ruth stood there in a lavender bath robe, pouring chemicals. Her safety goggles had been covered in black smoke, and her hair was out of it's braid and was all frizzed up.

"What are you doing?" John demanded. Ruth looked at John, but obviously couldn't see him. Her safety glasses were covered in soot. Ruth carefully removed her glasses, and examined John. She had big, nerdy like glasses on.

"Why do you have glasses on?" John asked.

"I wear glasses, well I wear glasses at night, contacts in the day. I wear both," Ruth mumbled. It was obvious that she was tired.

"Go back to bed. Seriously, what are you doing?" John asked again. Ruth shot him an annoyed look.

"Testing. Has anyone told how short you are?" Ruth lazily said. John walked over to her and picked her up.

"What are you-?" Ruth started to ask, but by the time John had fully carried Ruth into Sherlock's room, she was asleep. John set her carefully under the blankets, this time sure not to get punched.

John walked out of the room and closed the door behind him. He walked into the living room and sat on Sherlock's chair.

"I could have handled that you know. I was waiting to see if the end result worked," Sherlock said mildly. John literally jumped out of the chair and clenched his hand into a fist. He had forgotten that Sherlock had been sleeping on the couch, but Sherlock rarely slept, so it would make sense that he was awake listening to his niece.

"Proving my point John," Sherlock continued," that you are over protective and have bonded with my niece."

"I'm too tired to deal with you right now. I'm going back to bed Sherlock. Normal people have to sleep."

John walked back to his bedroom and sighed deeply. He climbed back into his cold sheets and dreamed about explosions that Ruth and Sherlock made around the city.

Sherlock was in the living room at around four o'clock in the morning when he got a call from Lestrade. He picked up his cell phone from the coffee table and answered.

"Hello, Sherlock."

"It's Lestrade. There's been another murder by a movie theater on Tenth Street. Be there."

The phone rung out just then, and Sherlock sprinted first out of instinct up the stairs to get John. He knocked on John's door restlessly.

"No Sherlock, a twelve year can not hold your explosives!" John unexpectedly shouted. Sherlock stood, trying to figure out what in the world John had just said.

"I'm not going to let her. There's been another murder! Get on your clothes and let's go!"

Sherlock wasted no time when he heard John start to rise. He sprinted down the stairs again and opened his door. Ruth lay under the blanket this time, unmoved from where John had put her.

"Ruth," Sherlock said soothingly,"There's been another murder. Let's go."

Ruth sat up, and before punching looked at who stood over her bed. She sighed and nodded. Her glasses, that still rested on her face, were fixed by her tiny fingers.

"Where?" she asked groggily.

"Tenth Street, outside the movie theater. Get up, and put on real clothes!" Sherlock now exclaimed. He wouldn't stop moving, he couldn't let this surge of excitement go.

He exited his room and caught John, who was wearing one of his many jumpers, coming down the stairs.

"Is it related?" John murmured.

"No idea, Lestrade only said to come."

"Where's Ruth going to stay?"

"With us of course."

"You're bringing a twelve year old to a murder case at four in the morning?"

"Why not?"

"Because children need their sleep!"

"Not important!'

John sighed. It was no use arguing with Sherlock. He only ever argued if he really believed what he meant.

John looked further than Sherlock to see Ruth standing sloppily, unlike her usual form. She wore black sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. Her hair hung in a loose ponytail and her glasses rode on her nose. She looked like an entirely different child!

"Ready?" Sherlock spoke to Ruth now. The little girl nodded. John and her followed Sherlock out the door, and to the cab Lestrade was waiting in.

The three climbed into the cab. Sherlock and Ruth didn't bother to play their endless game, the girl was much too tired for that.

John stared sadly at the little girl. It was important to her development that she get enough sleep. He watched as she quietly yawned and nuzzled into Sherlock's side. Sherlock!

Sherlock put an arm around his smaller companion and gripped her. She sighed deeply. The cab stopped.

"We're here," Sherlock said excitedly. He opened the door and climbed out, followed by his companions. John and Ruth climbed out slowly, and Sherlock didn't stop. He rushed to the woman who laid pass police tape and on the ground. He examined the body. John and Ruth stepped up behind him.

"John," Sherlock grunted. John stepped closer to the body, squinting in the dark light.

"Female, mid- twenties, maybe early thirties. Looks healthy, hard to tell."

Lestrade walked over to the strange trio. He glanced at the woman, who had a concealed stab wound in her lower thigh.

"Her names Vanessa Jennings, she was at the movies for a late showing with her girlfriend. A man allegedly stabbed Vanessa and knocked out her girlfriend. The girlfriend survived, she's at the hospital," Lestrade said.

"Sherlock- you don't think-," Ruth began, but Sherlock cut her off.

"A homophobic serial killer? Maybe. Why though?Possibly for a religion taken too far, or a cult," Sherlock was thinking aloud now.

"Motives?" Ruth asked sleepily.

"Obvious. He has resentment towards his victim's sexual orientation, he most likely had a pedophilic experience as a child. Yes, most definitely."

"Can we go home now?" Ruth asked childishly. John led her back to the cab and help Ruth inside.

"Not to be rude sir, but why have you got a child with you at a crime scene? Is that aloud?"

John turned around from the cab he was leaning on and turned to face the cabby.

"I've got no idea why she's here, ask her uncle, he's the one who insisted on bringing her."

John turned back around and watched as Sherlock walked toward the car. He had his stup up I'm thinking face on, so John decided not to bother him.

Sherlock quietly got into the car, not even turning to face his companions. Ruth fell asleep to the silence. John sat and thought about the homophobic killer. Odd.

When the car parked outside 221B Baker Street, Sherlock picked up Ruth and sullenly carried her inside. John followed right behind him.

Sherlock placed Ruth steadily in his bed. He walked back into the living room.

"You're probably not going to go to sleep, are you?" John asked.

"Most certainly not, you know that."

"Okay, well I'm going to bed. I have work tomorrow. Goodnight Sherlock."

"Goodnight John."

John trudged up the stairs, and climbed into bed. He couldn't sleep though, his mind kept racing, like it did every time they went to do a case. He listened to Sherlock pace back and forth down stairs in a rhythmic pattern. What could be going on in that funny head of his, John didn't know.

Ruth climbed out of bed in the morning, and slung her hair into a bun. She didn't take her glasses off though, they rested comfortably on her face. She pulled on a planned outfit and walked out the bedroom door. Sherlock sat across from John at the table, who was finishing his cup of tea.

"Morning," Ruth said calmly. John's head rose up, Sherlock's did not. He sat staring into space, most likely reciting the early morning events. It was clear he had not slept.

"Morning," John greeted her. Sherlock still didn't move. John frowned.

"I have to get going. I have to get to the clinic. Sherlock, take care of your niece,"John commanded. He wove goodbye to Ruth and glanced at Sherlock with a frown. John walked to the door of the flat and left.

"You know, it's interesting how you interact with him. I've never seen you act like that with anyone normal, you usually brush everyone off, acting like they're stupid. With John you take the time to explain your ideas, like he wasn't normal," Ruth explained. Sherlock didn't reply.

"You said he's lived here for what, a year and a half, and yet he has already moved in and started solving cases with you. What's so great about about John?"

What so great, Sherlock thought, is that he's so hard to read. When normal people would give up in frustration, John keeps trying. When put with the option of sacrificing himself or a normal stranger, John will sacrifice himself. John always pulls through and does things normal people wouldn't dare, and doesn't even think twice.

Sherlock didn't say that though, he just stared. Ruth took silence for an answer enough on walked further out and into the living room.

About an hour or so later a weak knocking came at the door. Sherlock reluctantly left the table to answer it.

"Ah, ! Are you here about the burnt shower walls?" Sherlock asked. Ruth peaked her head around to see who Sherlock was talking to. An old elderly woman stood crookedly at the door.

"You burnt the shower wall? Oh dear Sherlock! No, no, I was here about the rent," exclaimed. Sherlock looked emotionlessly at her.

"It's in my bedroom. Ruth, please go fetch that," Sherlock stated. Ruth reluctantly left her spot and walked back to the room she currently occupied. The rent was neatly laid on Sherlock's side table. Ruth gingerly picked it up and walked back to Sherlock.

Ruth stood behind the hallway wall for a moment, listening to .

"She's Mycroft's daughter?"

"Yes. Her mother died during childbirth. Her name was Olivia Holmes, her maiden name Olivia Patterson."

"Aw, the poor dear."

"She doesn't remember her mother, so I don't feel the need for sentiment."

Ruth walked out from her hiding place, the rent crumbled in her hand now. She handed him the rent, and didn't look him in the eyes.

"Oh, thank you dear," cooed. Ruth smiled more humanely than Sherlock would.


End file.
